Act 4 — [Scene II.][876]

Isab. Tell me no more!—O monstrous homicides! Since neither piety or pity moves The king to justice or compassion, I will revenge myself upon this place, Where thus they murdered my beloved son.5 She cuts down the arbour. Down with these branches and these loathsome boughs Of this unfortunate and fatal pine! Down with them, Isabella; rent them up. And burn the roots from whence the rest is sprung! I will not leave a root, a stalk, a tree,10 A bough, a branch, a blossom, nor a leaf, No, not an herb within this garden-plot,— Accursed complot[877] of my misery! Fruitless for ever may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blissless whosoever15 Imagines not to keep it unmanur’d![878] An eastern wind, commix’d with noisome airs, Shall blast the plants and the young saplings; The earth with serpents shall be pestered, And passengers, for fear to be infect,20 Shall stand aloof, and, looking at it, tell: “There, murd’red, died the son of Isabel.” Ay, here he died, and here I him embrace: See, where his ghost solicits with his wounds Revenge on her that should revenge his death.25 Hieronimo, make haste to see thy son; For sorrow and despair hath cited me To hear Horatio plead with Rhadamanth. Make haste, Hieronimo, to hold excus’d[879] Thy negligence in pursuit of their deaths30 Whose hateful wrath bereav’d him of his breath. Ah, nay, thou dost delay their deaths, Forgives the murderers of thy noble son, And none but I bestir me—to no end! And as I curse this tree from further fruit,35 So shall my womb be cursed for his sake; And with this weapon will I wound the breast, The hapless breast, that gave Horatio suck. She stabs herself.